


Sunshine and Shadow

by MirabilisMage



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-11-02 10:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10942797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirabilisMage/pseuds/MirabilisMage
Summary: Safe, for now, at Skyhold, Inquisitor Anjali Trevelyan seeks information about her sister, Lily. Lily, a member of the Chantry, had been imprisoned shortly before the Blight, and not heard from since. Meanwhile, the Inquisitor juggles her new duties and relationships. A mysterious mage called Sunny studies traumatized minds and develops new forms of healing magic. Soon, all three women's lives will become entwined as they struggle to save the world and themselves.





	1. 1.

“Ah, Inquisitor, I have an update for you,” Leliana said over the echoing caws of crows.

“A good update, I hope?” Inquisitor Trevelyan replied, shaking some errant feathers loose from her dark burgundy hair. Her cheeks were flushed, rose gold on copper. Finally, some news! She didn’t know what to do with her hands.

“My agents have tracked her to Aeonar.”

Trevelyan shook her head and shrugged slightly. Crossed her arms. Uncrossed them.

“The mages’ prison in northern Ferelden. The location has been kept secret to all but a few within the Chantry.” Leliana gestured vaguely at her map. 

Trevelyan’s brow furrowed. “Mages’ prison? She’s not a mage.”

“Perhaps she came into her magic late? Or perhaps. . . .” 

“Perhaps?”

“Perhaps she was possessed. You said she had been stationed at the Fereldan Circle.”

Trevelyan inhaled sharply. “I. . .I had not considered that. Well, I need to know. I need to know what happened.” Her eyes were bright, the violet more pronounced from the few tears at the rim. 

Leliana nodded. “To the war table, Inquisitor?”


	2. 2.

Captain Mund wasn’t surprised by Grey Wardens asking for inmates. But he was surprised that they asked for an inmate by name. Lilavati Trevelyan wasn’t a mage, warrior, or healer; she wasn’t useful to the Wardens at all. She was useful to the Chantry, though, and he was loathe to give her up.

But the phrase “Rite of Conscription” couldn’t be refused, so Mund heavily pushed his chair back and slowly ambled down the hall. He carefully measured each step, so that he could as much out of Lilavati as possible. His superiors would not be happy.

Her cell was special, at the end of the hall and with large windows. Light didn’t just filter in, but flooded in, crashing around the bars, and sometimes one could even hear birdsong. Trevelyan was sweet, docile, and obedient, and her reward was light and song. Well, that’s what the jailers told her.

The key jangled in the lock and she didn’t even look up. She had work, only that, to keep her going, and so she did, fingers flying across the canvas as she painted. And the painting glowed, for she used a secret, on imposed on her: she painted with lyrium. The light, the paint, the cell: a reward, they said. But she knew, even as she mixed colors, played dumb, became dumb, it was a punishment, a sentence.

“This is it, Trevelyan,” Mund said, keeping his statement deliberately vague. “They’ve come for you.”

She looked up in confusion, her mind racing. Who would even want her? She painted, she behaved, she was quiet. There was nothing left.

“The Wardens,” he finally revealed. “Not much for you to pack up, I suppose, but you’ll not be returning.”

“W-w-w-wardens?”

“Why they’ve come for you, I don’t know, but let’s get moving.”

She glanced around the room, but saw nothing to take with her. She would be glad to leave this prison and all within it. She shrugged, set down her brush, and walked towards the door.

The Wardens gave a little bow when she appeared; the black-haired man smiled kindly. The younger Warden consulted his notes. “Lilavati Trevelyan?” She nodded.

Mund had the Wardens complete some paperwork and then she was free.

She trailed slowly behind the Wardens, blinking into the sun. Over, released, just like that. Aeonar fading into the past.

The Wardens led her to a covered wagon and helped her in; the others already in the wagon moved to let her sit comfortably. She was glad for the gloom, as it hid her grey skin and hair. She could pretend, for a moment, she was just a normal woman in just a normal wagon.

As the wagon started to move, the older Warden spoke. “Introductions are in order. My name is Blackwall.”

“Krem.”

“Rocky.”

“Stitches.”

“Dalish.”

Krem started to explain,”Lilavati, we--”

“L-l-lily. Lily, please.”

Krem nodded and gave a small smile. “Lily, we were actually sent here by the Inquisitor.”

“Inquis—inquisitor?”

“Your sister,” Blackwell interjected. “We’ll explain more when we make camp tonight.”

Sister! Lily’s mind reeled. How often had she thought of her family over the last ten years? She hadn’t heard from her parents or any of her three sisters; she worried they were ashamed of her or had disowned her. Wardens, Inquisitors, sisters. She took a breath to calm her mind. What was next?


	3. 3.

The canvas of the wagon held the heat in close. The wardens spoke, softly it seemed, or played games. Lily hugged her knees. The wooden wheels amplified the silence. Lily wanted to feel scared, but even fear was left behind in the dust. 

Through the opening at the back of the wagon, she spied a green streak in the sky. She recalled seeing such a streak from her window; it had only appeared recently. The streak was a sickly glow, a green compliment to the jars of lyrium she knew too well. She didn’t know its cause, nor did her jailors. But it remained in the sky, and when she thought they might have left it behind, it appeared again.

“Kuh-krem,” she said carefully, trying to get the attention of the young man beside her. She tugged at his sleeve. He turned to her, “What do you need?”

“Wa-wa-water. Please.” Krem nodded and found a waterskin for her. Lily willed herself to savor it. It tasted earthy and she had to work hard to keep her balance in the shaking cart. She closed her eyes, indulging a small fantasy of what might be to come: light without bars, properly cooked food, perhaps wine. How much have you forgotten? Remember this. She tried to picture the water in her mouth, how it sloshed over her tongue, as it moved down her throat. She returned the skin and tried to grasp a piece of the future.


	4. 4.

As the sun slipped below the horizon, the wagon slowed and stopped. Lily could hear voices, smell fire. Stitches helped her from the cart, and she leaned against the cart, trying to regain a sense of equilibrium in mind and body.    
  
“This way, please, Lily,” Warden Blackwell said, jarring her again. She followed him to a large tent, walking past banners with an eye and starburst design. The majority of the people at the camp wore uniforms or livery bearing the same design: a military encampment, but not for the Wardens.    
  
Blackwell gestured to a low stool in the tent, and she gratefully sank into the thin pillow placed upon it.  He pulled up another stool. “Where to begin?” He pointed to the sky. “You’ve seen the Breach in the sky?”

She nodded, knowing what he meant though she didn’t know that name. Breach.    
  
“That is a tear in the veil. It’s allowing demons from the Fade to enter the world. But your sister, Anjali, is leading the fight against those demons, and trying to find a way to heal the Breach. She is leading the Inquisition, and she is the Inquisitor.”   
  
Anjali! Of course. Little sister, strong and fierce and brave, even as a child. Eight when Lily had said goodbye and left for the Chantry, eight and Lily had been 18, ready for a quiet life. Geeta and Soniya, the oldest Trevelyan daughters, were raised as heirs, and then, as was the family custom, Lilavata was to enter the Chantry and Anjali the Templar Order. Lily had looked forward to a life of scholarship and serving the Maker. Anjali was a born fighter and had surely been a fine Templar and warrior. So of course she should lead now.   
  
“An-an-and me?”   
  
Blackwall smiled kindly. “As soon as she was able, the Inquisitor began looking for you. She has asked that we bring you to the Inquisition base at Skyhold.” He reached into his tunic and produced folded piece of paper, sealed with wax. “And she asked that I give this to you.”   
  
She took it, running her fingers over the seal. Before she could read it, Krem appeared at the tent’s entrance, bearing bowls of stew. Lily carefully balanced the paper on her lap while gratefully accepting the bowl.   
  
“Did you give her the trunk Josephine sent?” Krem asked Blackwall.    
  
“I forgot! One moment, my lady,” he said, rushing out.   
  
Lily spoke carefully, slowly, trying to get each word out. “Are you-are you part of the Inqui-inquistion, too?”   
  
Krem laughed. “In a way. I’m one of Bull’s Chargers. Almost everyone you met today is. When our boss decided to ally with the Inquisition, me and everyone else did too.”   
  
“Blackwall?”   
  
“Oh no, old Blackwall actually is a Warden. The boss is a large, horned Qunari. Not the best for a covert mission to a mage’s prison.”   
  
Lily raised her brow. She’d never seen a Qunari, and indeed had only heard horror stories for most of her life. “Scary.”   
  
Krem shook his head. “Other than being a fierce warrior, he’s a big softie. His name’s The Iron Bull. You’ll get to meet him, you’ll love him.”  Lily swallowed hard.    
  
“The Breach threatens all of us,” Krem said, serious for a moment. “Your sister is building something, people from all over Thedas coming to help.”   
  
She nodded. A life of being told who, what to fear. So much had changed over the past ten years.   
  
Krem smiled again. “I’m from Tevinter myself. Tevinter, Orlais, the Free Marches, Qunari, mages, Templars, just regular people.”   
  
“A lot,” Lily said, staring into her bowl. Before she could clarify, Blackwall returned with a small trunk.   
  
“Josephine thought you might need some new clothes and personal things.” He opened the trunk for Lily, gesturing to the neatly folded piles inside. Lily looked down at her plain homespun shift, suddenly feeling embarrassed.    
  
“Why don’t we leave Miss Trevelyan?” Krem asked, ushering Blackwall out. He closed the tent flap as they left and Lily was suddenly, finally, left alone.    
  
She set her bowl down and stretched her legs. She carefully pried apart the wax seal on her letter.   
  
_ My Dear Sister Lily, _ __   
__   
_ I am overjoyed by the thought of seeing you soon. Warden Blackwall and Lieutenant Krem are two of my most trusted allies. Trust them and their methods and we will meet soon. _ __   
__   
_ To say I have much to tell you is an understatement! My agents will be happy to answer your questions. For now, I will simply say: Blackwall, Krem, and their company are escorting you to Inquisition headquarters at Skyhold. Once at Skyhold, you can safely rest and recover and then decide what you would like to do next. _ __   
__   
_ How I long to have you here! Soon! Travel safely. _ __   
__   
_ Your loving sister, Anjali _ __   
  
She read it several times, trying to make sense of the words. Or rather, the words made sense, but how they related to her. Anjali. Focus on that. Little sister. Family. Strangers. Who, who, who. Enough of that; Lily quickly looked through the trunk, finding a black tunic and leggings that suited her desire to be invisible.    
  
Krem stuck his head through the flap. “We’re sending a report to the Inquisitor, that we are heading to Skyhold. Would you like to send her a message too?” Lily nodded.  Krem left and quickly returned with paper and pen, then left Lily alone again.   
  
Lily held the letter from her sister in her left hand, the letter to her sister in her right hand. What to say? What words could be adequate. How to commit feelings to paper? Which feelings? She thought back to her lessons from long ago, when learning how to write and be a lady.   
  
_ To My Dear Sister Inquisitor Anjali Trevelyan, _ __   
__   
_ Pleasant greetings to you and I most sincerely hope this letter finds you in good health.  _ __   
__   
_ I am most honored to be meeting with you soon.  _ __   
__   
_ Gratefully, your sister Lilavati Trevelyan _ __   
__   
It was elegant if not emotional. A tribute to breeding and training if not to the roil in her brain.  __   
  
Not long after, Krem and Blackwall returned, bringing Rocky, Stitches, and Dalish, as well as several other members of the Inquisition, one of whom collected Lily’s letter. Lily sat with her back to a corner, trying to keep a pleasant expression on her face as she tried to follow along as they tried to explain all that had happened within the last ten days, weeks, months, and years. The clamor of voices was too much to understand, but Lily appreciated the sound, that other people were here, that noise and light and speech and friendship could exist. It was exhausting, but she savored it.    
  
Finally Blackwall insisted that it was time to sleep; another long journey awaited in the morning. Lily looked to the sky, to the moon, so long criss-crossed by bars.    
  
“May-may I sleep out here, out here?” she asked. Blackwell tried to suggest she would be more comfortable in a tent, but quickly gave in, and a bedroll was set up. She was just a little too cold, and rocks dug into her back, but the sky spread before her. She couldn’t sleep as the wind in the trees, the soft chatter of the soldiers on night watch, as the little skitter of crawling creatures kept her awake. Eventually, as the last plumes of smoke curled from the fire, she fell into a dreamless sleep, as she did every night.   



	5. 5.

Sunny’s small room in Skyhold’s Mage’s Tower had just one window. Pale light illuminated the books and notes covering every surface, the small desk, chair, and cot. Small, but private and hers. Mages, after all, rarely have the luxury of being alone.

Not that Sunny got be alone very often. Students and patients constantly streamed through her door. She was at Skyhold to help, to heal, to learn, to teach. She had begged Fiona for this room, and the former Grand Enchanter had helped her secure the space.

Sunny had grown up around healers. She could dress wounds, set bones. But her interest was not in the physical, but the mental: fixing not the body but the mind. As Skyhold filled with soldiers and refugees, Sunny realized that emotional trauma would need to be addressed. 

“My path has been long and winding,” Sunny had told Fiona. “War has followed me and I have followed war. I would like to stay here. Continue my research. Help. Fight.”

Fiona sighed, as she often did, and said “I’ll see what I can do,” as she often said.

So Sunny’s small room was filled with people, working to treat the mind.


End file.
